


Princes of the Universe

by Rita (LFN_Archivist)



Series: Princes of the Universe [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series, La Femme Nikita
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:17:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFN_Archivist/pseuds/Rita
Summary: This story was originally posted to the LFN Storyboard Archives by Rita.





	Princes of the Universe

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a crossover Between La Femme Nikita and Highlander: The Series. It was written in late 1998 so it departs from LFN storyline sometime during season two. It was my first fanfic so I had much to learn. The characters are all borrowed without permission, but no harm is intended. By the way, Highlander fans will have to bear with me because I ignored the fifth season's finale and the entire sixth season and refuse to accept Richie's stupid and senseless death.

**PRESENT:**

She awoke to darkness. Her head ached and she was thirsty. She tried to get up to get a drink and couldn't, that's when she realized she was strapped to the bed. She tried to remember what had happened, how she got there. All she could remember was walking down the dark street, a shadowy figure and then...nothing. She didn't even know how long she'd been there or where she was. How did this happen? As little as three months ago she would never have let herself be taken by surprise like this. 

No one was coming even though she was awake. It gave her time to think. But rather than think about how she was going to escape, her mind began wandering back to the past three months, how and what changed her into a shell of the woman that she once was. 

It all started with that catastrophic mission three months ago. Everything that could possibly go wrong did. 

She couldn't stop herself from thinking about it, couldn't stop the pangs of guilt. It was her fault and her fault alone that he died. He was protecting her, as usual. 

The mission profile was simple, deceivingly simple. She should have known right away something was amiss, it couldn't be that easy. But she put away her doubts partly because she wanted to believe that finally, after numerous difficult - no, impossible - missions they were finally getting a break and partly because she was too exhausted after these same missions to think straight. All she was capable of back then was to follow orders. 

She thought back to the briefing room where it all started, was it only three months ago? 

******** 

**THREE MONTHS AGO:**

"This is a simple task," Operations explained to the small, assembled group, pointing, as he turned to the monitors. "There are two hostiles in this warehouse, your job is to go in, interrogate on site then cancel them both and blow up the warehouse." 

As he looked around the room, Operations realized that his setup was perfect. Not one of those assembled realized that he had placed them in the abeyance pool. Four operatives who were of no more use to the section and one he never thought should have made it this far to begin with. Nikita should have been canceled a long time ago, never been given full operational status in the first place. And now team leader? What was he thinking? Everyone tried to convince him he was wrong about her, but he knew he was right. She was a danger to the Section, too independent and willful. She was never able to let go of her humanity, something that could not be tolerated in Section for this long. How he was able to hold back for this long was a guess. No, he realized, he knew exactly why he held back for this long - Michael. Out of all his operatives Michael was his favorite, though he would never admit it to anyone. He knew that one day, Michael would fill his role as head of Section One. To successfully fill his shoes Michael could not afford any weaknesses. Nikita was his Achilles heel. With her around, she would continually implore Michael to make decisions based on emotion rather than logic. She would make him look for the least 'evil' way of accomplishing the task at hand. And Michael would listen and try. That kind of hesitation was a weakness that would destroy the Section and everything he himself had built it up to today. Better to get rid of Nikita now, while Michael could still go on without her. If he waited much longer, the bond between those two would be too strong, he feared. Too much longer and Michael would never be able to let go of her, would follow her into death. 

He hadn't even told Madeline about his decision or this mission profile, fearing that she would talk him out of it. He knew what everybody thought of him, to them he was cold and unfeeling, never even flinching when sending operatives, even innocents to their death. If they only knew the truth that every time he made cancellation decisions it took away a little piece of his soul. He couldn't remember when the last piece of his soul was taken, only that it was a long time ago. If he started dwelling on every decision, he would go mad. Do it and move on, that was the only way to survive, to stay sane. Michael had to learn not to let his humanity get in the way, before he took over, otherwise he would destroy himself and the Section. As long as Nikita was alive she would never let this happen, she would never let Michael forget his soul. That's why she had to be canceled, now, before it was too late, for Michael and for everybody. 

"Why aren't we bringing them here for interrogation?" Nikita asked, turning her suspicious blue eyes to Operations. 

"The profile calls for on-site activity only," Operations replied, barely containing his temper. He was rapidly growing tired of her insolence and insubordination. He was glad he made the decision to send her on this mission. It was perfect for his plans. His momentary guilt for deceiving Michael, yet again, vanished quickly, replaced by sure knowledge that he was doing what was best for everyone concerned. 

As if she could almost read his mind, Nikita asked, "Why isn't Michael leading the team?" 

"Michael and Birkoff will monitor at a...distance," Operations replied, almost slipping by saying a *safe* distance. "Michael will be there as an observer only, this is *your* mission, Nikita, do not fail." Operations knew he probably should just leave Michael here, but that would just further arouse his and Nikita's suspicions and he didn't want that. The less deviation from the norm the better. It was bad enough that Madeline had to be distracted until the team was on-site and it was too late to stop the profile, any more deviations would arouse too much suspicion. Michael would be too far away to stop the sequence anyway. 

"Transport leaves in 30 minutes, get your gear from Walter. Birkoff will give you the intel on the way. Any questions?" Operations summarized, saw no more questions were forthcoming, turned quickly and walked out. 

******** 

During the short plane ride over, something was nagging at Michael. The mission profile didn't feel right, but he couldn't quite grasp why. It wasn't intuition, he didn't believe in that. But, Michael had been a Section operative long enough (fifteen years to be exact) to develop and improve his instincts. These instincts were now telling him something was wrong. He decided he would keep a close eye out on everything, just in case. 

Once at their destination, Michael dropped Nikita and the rest of her team and took off, as per Operations instructions. 

Michael's sense of foreboding and deja vu crept up on him again as they were moving away from the target site so he stopped the jeep only a couple hundred feet from the team's drop-off point. Michael didn't bother informing Operations of the change in location and Birkoff noting the expression on Michael's face wasn't about to either. He was more afraid of the look on Michael's face than he ever was of Operations. 

"Charges set, interrogation completed, targets canceled." Nikita's voice came over the comm. 

All of a sudden, Operations, remotely detonating the charges himself, broke into the communications, "Charges detonated, thirty seconds..." 

As soon as Michael heard this he yelled at the team to evacuate and ran to the warehouse. Knowing exactly where Nikita was positioned he went right to her, mentally counting down the seconds. 

He knew there was little chance of getting out, but Michael didn't care. If Nikita died, then he would die with her. 

******** 

"What's going on Birkoff?" Operations barked, standing next to Madeline at his customary perch atop the communications center at Section headquarters. 

"We never went off-site...Michael went in to retrieve...the team." Birkoff replied 

Operations knew what Birkoff really meant, that Michael went in for Nikita. As he fell back into a nearby chair, Operations knew he made a fatal mistake. He should have known Michael would disobey orders and stick close to Nikita. Now he would lose them both. What bothered him the most, although he would never admit it, was that he just killed his best operative, the man who he had come to care about like his own son. 

"Why?" Madeline asked him simply. 

Operations could only manage to say, "What have I done, oh my god, what have I done?" 

Not even Madeline's contemptuous glare could penetrate his deepening sorrow. He just killed the man he had been grooming to one day take his place as the head of the Section, the only cold op he truly cared about in his long association with Section One. 

"Go look for any survivors as soon as it's clear." Operations told Birkoff, turning back to the monitor. He knew there was no way to survive the blast but he had to be sure. 

******** 

"Nikita, this way!" Michael yelled as he neared her. He grabbed her hand to follow to the nearest exit, all the while counting down in his head, 10...9...8...7...6...5(almost clear)...4...3...2. All of a sudden, only a few feet from the exit, Michael threw Nikita down to the floor and covered her body with his own, just as the place exploded. 

Thanks to Michael, using his body to shield her, Nikita only sustained a few broken ribs and bones, but when she tried to get up a minute later, she realized that it was Michael's dead weight on top of her preventing her from being able to move. She rolled him over gently and looked him over, he wasn't moving and had a nasty wound on the back of his head. 

"Michael?" she whispered. 

She received no response. Nikita checked for a pulse and could not find one. She tried to revive him, to no avail. She knew he was dead. 

Michael died the same way he had lived these last four years - protecting Nikita. 

Nikita sat there for a minute, rocking Michael gently back and forth until Birkoff showed up. 

"Nikita, we have to go, the place is going to collapse." 

"Not without Michael. We have to get him out, we can revive him." Nikita replied. 

"I'm sorry Nikita, he's...gone." Birkoff said after checking Michael over, then added gently, "I'll come back for his...body as soon as I get you clear." Birkoff knew that even Michael, with his incredible strength would be hard-pressed to survive this situation. 

Having no choice, she let herself be half-carried, half-dragged out by Birkoff, watching as the warehouse collapsed behind them, extinguishing any chance of retrieval or survival of Michael. 

******** 

**PRESENT:**

"Nikita?" 

'Great, now I'm hearing things,' Nikita thought as she peered around the dark room. 'I could swear I just heard Michael, again, like so many times these last few months.' All of a sudden the door burst open and in jumped Michael, looking unbelievably alive and fit. Nikita just lay there staring, she couldn't bring herself to believe that what she was seeing was real. Either he was a ghost or she must be hallucinating. 

"Michael?!?" 

"Yes, Nikita, it's me. I'm really here." 

"No! This has to be another trick, I saw you die!" 

"You know it's me," Michael replied as he came closer. 

"How do I know it's really you?" Nikita asked, clearly confused. 

Instead of replying, Michael unstrapped Nikita's restraints, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her deeply, months of longing showing in his suddenly passionate green eyes. 

"Michael! Oh my god, it *is* you!!!" Nikita breathed after Michael finally broke the kiss. "But how?" 

******** 

**THREE MONTHS AGO:**

As Duncan MacLeod drove by the deserted warehouse not half an hour after it collapsed, he felt the familiar, albeit weak, buzz of a nearby immortal. Drawing his katana sword, he cautiously made his way to the slowly recovering Michael. 

Michael was lying under a pile of rubble, struggling to stay conscious and trying to figure out what had happened. The last thing he remembered was the explosion, then nothing until he saw Birkoff dragging Nikita to the jeep and then the jeep driving off. The fact that he was at all alive at this point was a testament to his physical strength and his uncanny ability to stoically and constantly withstand pain that would kill anyone else. 

"Are you okay?" Duncan asked, for lack of better phrasing. 

Michael tried to reach his gun to protect himself from the stranger, but found himself too weak to do so. He tried to answer with his customary 'I'm fine', but the only thing that came out was a whispered "No...Nikita," before he fell back into unconsciousness from the pain the rubble on top of him was causing him. His last conscious thought before oblivion claimed him was a sense of relief that at least Nikita was safe. 

"Now what?" Duncan muttered to himself looking around. "At least this arms and drugs warehouse was finally destroyed." 

Deciding that bodies in black fatigues and so much standard issue firepower around, probably meant government infiltration, Duncan thought about the best way to proceed. He was sure that the man presently lying unconscious had been left for dead by the others reasoning correctly that no mortal could possibly survive the explosion and subsequent collapse. He figured that it was only a matter of time before a clean-up crew of some sort was going to show up. His best course of action was to get himself and the as yet unknown immortal out of here as fast as possible. Duncan realized that whoever this man was, he must be new because he didn't react to Duncan like an experienced immortal would, he didn't even 'notice' Duncan's approach. Duncan dug Michael out of the rubble, noticing by the sudden disappearance of the immortal buzz, that Michael was actually dead now, rather than just unconscious and carried him over his shoulder to his car. He only hoped that this immortal was one of the good guys, but just in case, he kept his sword close on the drive back to his dojo/home. 

As they were driving away, Duncan heard a loud rumble and turned around to watch as the building collapsed completely, burying everyone and everything around. 

Michael still hadn't woken up during the 15 minute drive, his injuries too severe, his immortality too new. Once again, Duncan looked around to make sure no one was around, then took Michael out of the car and into the dojo. 

"Richie?" Duncan called out, sensing another immortal's presence. 

"Yeah Mac, it's me!" Richie answered quickly (to avoid getting beheaded by a sword), coming out of the office. "Hey, what's going on?" Richie asked watching Duncan drag Michael into the dojo. 

"Help me get him upstairs." Duncan replied. 

"Who is he?" Richie asked as he helped Duncan carry Michael's corpse to Duncan's apartment upstairs. 

Once they got Michael's body comfortably situated on the couch they sat down on the chairs by the coffee table. Duncan told him what had transpired in the last half hour or so and was just finishing when they both felt another immortal's buzz and heard Michael gasp and come to back to life. 

"Welcome back to the world of the living!" Duncan exclaimed as a greeting, he and Richie turning around to look at Michael. 

"The world of the living...what are you talking about? Where am I and who are you?" Michael asked in his softly accented English, struggling to sit up and focus. 

"So, I was right, you don't know." Duncan stated, knowingly. 

"Know what?" Michael asked baffled, slowly sitting up. The pain was receding. All he felt now was a curious sensation in his head and a butterfly feeling in his stomach. When he first opened his eyes and took a quick look around, he realized that he was lying on a comfortable couch, in what appeared to be the living room of a spacious apartment and the two men sitting on the chairs across the coffee table did not look like interrogators or guards and weren't even armed. 

Duncan and Richie just looked at each other. 'Here we go again, thought Duncan. Why is it that I get stuck with 'rookies', ones that haven't died their natural deaths and have no idea who or what they are?' 

Aloud he said, "We need to talk, uh...what's your name?" 

"Michael," he answered, unsure of why he trusted these two with even that much information "Who are you and what am I doing here?" 

"I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod and this is Richie Ryan." Duncan replied. 

"What do you mean, 'clan MacLeod'?" Michael asked, starting to get a bad feeling about his current situation. 

"Sorry, force of habit." Duncan grinned. "How do you feel, I mean, other than the buzzing in your head and butterflies in your stomach?" 

"How do you know about that?" Michael asked, startled that this man somehow knew what he was feeling. "Did you inject me with something to..." 

"No," Duncan cut him off. "Richie and I feel it too. It's what all immortals feel when another is nearby. We also feel the seeds of immortality, that's how I found you in the rubble." 

"Immortality, what are you talking about?" Michael asked stunned. He was right, these guys were not the enemy, they were just plain crazy. He had to find a way out and fast. He needed to get back to Section, to debrief. Since Michael knew that Nikita was safe, he decided he wasn't in that much of a hurry. Even though his head was telling him that what MacLeod was saying was impossible, his instincts were screaming at him to listen and believe. 

"I know that this must be hard to believe, let alone accept, but it is true. I went through this myself only a few years back." Richie said in the sudden silence. 

"You're both crazy, I'm going to leave now, don't try to stop me." Michael said, getting up quickly. 

Before he could go anywhere, Duncan pulled out his sword from seemingly no where and held it to Michael's throat. The move was so sudden and unexpected (a sword!?!) that Michael didn't even have a chance to counter. 

"Listen," Duncan hissed. "The first thing you need to know is that the one thing that *can* kill you is a beheading, so sit down, shut up and listen." 

Since Michael didn't believe in immortality and he didn't feel like dying by a sword, of all things, today, he sat back down on the couch and softly whispered, "I'm listening." 

"First thing's first." Duncan started. "I can tell that you don't believe a word either one of us has said to you. So, I'm going to prove to you that it's true." 

"Oh really? How are you going to do that?" Michael asked with a smirk. 

Before Michael had a chance to react Duncan drove his sword into Michael's upper left arm. At first all Michael felt was extreme pain, so intense that he thought he was going to die. But that lasted only a few seconds. Then right before his eyes, his arm started to heal. What amazed him even more were the little flashes of electric/lightning bolts that hissed and shot up through the injured area, closing the wound in their wake. After a few otherwise silent moments, the wound and the pain were completely gone and no scarring remained, as if the injury never happened. 

While Michael was still trying to process and absorb what was happening, Duncan and Richie exchanged knowing glances and kept looking at Michael for a reaction. They'd both been through this 'stuff', more times than either cared to count. For them it was second nature to accept the healing powers of their bodies, after all, immortality certainly had its advantages. 

It took Michael a few minutes to recover, his eyes burning an intense green, but once he did his mercurial eyes turned back to their customary gray and he focused his penetrating gaze on Duncan. 

"I'm listening." Michael finally said, all humor gone, his face the usual expressionless mask he wore. 

This change didn't go unnoticed by the two seasoned immortals. Duncan was already intrigued by this young man. He knew that Michael was not a criminal, at least not an ordinary one. He figured that Michael was some kind of covert operative, just which side he was on was still up for debate. 

"What exactly were you doing at the warehouse?" Richie inquired suddenly, his curiosity piqued. 

"Does it matter?" Michael replied in his usual monotone, his face still an unreadable mask, his eyes still their usual calm gray. 

"If you want our help then we need to develop some kind of trust..." Duncan replied, starting to get irritated. 

"I can take care of myself, I don't need anyone's help." Michael replied, again ready to leave. 

"Really, that's why I was able to cut you with my sword without any trouble?" Duncan smirked. 

"I was simply surprised, unprepared, it will not happen again." Michael stated, eyes flashing an angry dark green momentarily, before returning to their customary gray. 

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. If you want to survive you'll sit back down and listen." 

"I thought you said I was immortal, if so then why would I need help to survive if nothing can kill me?" Michael asked genuinely puzzled. "Besides, why would you want to help me? You don't even know me and considering how you found me, I'm surprised you haven't asked the obvious questions." 

"What questions? What were you doing there? Who do you work for? That's in the past, it doesn't matter anymore." Duncan explained. "What matters is what you do from here on in. Besides I know what was in that warehouse. If you were part of a team destroying it, well then you can't be so bad after all." 

Michael didn't reply, he knew that none of this could be true, these people must be crazy, but something was holding him back from running out of there. Something was telling him to sit and listen. Between that 'voice' and the immortal buzz feeling that he was now starting to believe and accept as a normalcy, he felt that he had no choice but to listen. 

"We'll start from the beginning," Duncan announced when he saw the acceptance in Michael's eyes. "Richie, do me a favor and get the training swords from storage, take my car, we won't be going anywhere for a while anyway." Duncan continued, reaching out to hand Richie the keys to his car and storage room. 

When Richie had gone, Michael sat back on the couch and Duncan sat up straight in his chair and began. 

"Let me finish, then you can ask any questions you have." Duncan said. 

"Fine." Michael replied softly and nodded. 

"As I said we are immortals, we can not die unless someone takes our head." Duncan started. "There are others out there like us, some good, some evil. In the end, there can be only one. The last one will have all the power, knowledge, skills, etc. of all those before him and will become mortal again, but with the ability to rule the world. There are those, like Richie and me, content with living out their years among mortals but there are also many who hunt, they play the 'game' to win the 'prize', to be *the one*. We carry swords and the like around with us at all times to defend against those who hunt. Once begun, a fight can not be interrupted and there can be no two on ones. Our only refuge is holy ground, be it a temple, church, cemetery, monastery, whatever. No one, not even the most evil of us, fights on holy ground. Of the rules of engagement, holy ground is the most serious, it can *never* be broken. The last time it happened...Well, remember Pompeii?" Duncan paused, making sure this was sinking in. "Although many of us have no intention of hunting others for the prize, that doesn't mean we will be sitting ducks either. If challenged, you must answer, so obviously you need to be trained in sword fighting - unless you want to spend all your life in a monastery." Duncan joked. "Now any questions?" Duncan added facetiously, knowing full well that any normal person would probably have a million and one of them. 

Michael just kept staring at the wall, his patented 'blank stare'. He didn't know where to begin. Michael knew it all sounded preposterous but yet, somehow, he believed. While Duncan was talking a part of Michael's mind was listening, but he had long ago learned how to listen and absorb while letting his mind wander at the same time. He thought about all the people he cared about, past and present. He thought about all the lives he could have saved, had he known about his immortality. That thought jolted him back, did he really believe what MacLeod was telling him, did he really believe in immortality? 

"Is that it, may I go now?" Was all Michael said. 

"Nice attitude." Duncan replied, getting angry. 'You know, I didn't have to help, I could have just left you to figure things out and try to survive on your own..." 

"Why do you want to help me?" Michael suddenly interrupted. 

'Good question,' Duncan thought. 'Why *do* I care? Maybe it's all the pain and sorrow that shows in his eyes.' Duncan somehow knew that the young man in front of him had had a painful and tragic life, maybe in immortality he could find peace and joy. All he said though was, "Because us 'good guys' should stick together." Duncan smiled. "Besides I have a soft spot for hard luck cases." 

"Hard luck cases?" Michael queried. "And how can you be sure that I'm one of the good guys?" 

"I figure there's a long, sad story to explain why you were at that warehouse." Duncan replied, thinking it was a good thing he had immortal friends all over, including, of course, covert government agencies, who keep him up to date on what's new in the spy game. "And you don't come off as what I'd call evil. Cold and detached certainly, but not evil. Actually, I pegged you as a government agent of some sort, so which one is it? CIA? Interpol? Section One?..." 

At the mention of Section One, Michael flinched, albeit slightly, but enough for Duncan, who'd learned over his many years to read people, to confirm his suspicions and drop it for now. He was sure that Michael would tell him about his involvement with Section One when he was ready. 

Michael's first instinct was to cancel Duncan and find his way back to Section. This whole scenario had an unreal, almost sci-fi quality to it. 

Duncan saw that Michael looked like he was ready to bolt. He knew that if Michael left now, he would lose him for good. While he had no doubt that Michael was well trained in many areas, Duncan was sure that sword fighting was not one of the skills taught to government agents. While it was an unnecessary skill in the 'real' world, in the immortal world unless you knew how to handle a sword or the like you wouldn't last very long, regardless of any other skills. He didn't know why, but for some reason he already cared about Michael. Maybe it was because he saw some of his own pain and loss reflected in Michael's gray-green eyes, maybe not. Whatever the reason, he wanted to help Michael survive his immortality for as long as possible. Duncan was not an arrogant man but he knew he was a damn good swordsman as his friend/watcher Joe Dawson, among others, kept reminding him. If, as Duncan suspected, Michael turned out to be a good pupil, he had no doubt that Michael would live a long and hopefully happy life. 

"It's obvious you don't trust me, *yet*." Duncan said aloud. "Can't say that I blame you. I'd feel the same in your position. So, to make things easier and more comfortable, I'll start off by telling you about myself and then you can return the courtesy." 

"Fine, may I ask a question, though?" Michael inquired politely. At Duncan's nod he continued. "Does this 'buzz' ever go away and what is it exactly?" 

"The 'buzz' is the reaction to the quickening inside you that is released only upon your beheading. So, it never goes away but you do get used to it and learn to appreciate it." Duncan grinned. "We can't differentiate as to which immortal is present, only that one is near-by. Since we're not all as friendly as me, use it as a warning sign that one of us is near and be on your guard. Now that you've 'changed', died your first death, you'll be able to feel the others. You'll also be able to feel the seeds of immortality in those of us who haven't changed yet. That's how I found you in the first place, I felt your presence/quickening even though you didn't feel mine." 

"I see." Michael was beyond wanting to leave at this point. Even though logically, immortality and its trappings were impossible, all the evidence was dictating otherwise. He found to his continued astonishment (not that it showed on his as usually 'masked' face) that he truly believed and he was actually curious as to who Duncan is and why he's helping him. 

"My mortal life really wasn't that important." Duncan started, hoping to impress upon Michael that regardless of what his life has been like, his immortality was giving him a chance to start over, with a clean slate. "Suffice it to say that I was born in 1592, in the Highlands of Scotland. I was mortally wounded in battle in the 1620's and 'became' an immortal. I didn't know what I was at first and wandered around a long time, cast aside by my clan as a demon, nearly going mad. But I got lucky, I found or should I say, was found, by several different older immortals who were willing to teach me their skills. I have learned from many over the past 300 plus years. Partly as pay back to my teachers and a sense of loyalty and duty to our 'race' and partly due to my generous nature," Duncan smiled, "I have at times returned the favor and tried to help new immortals learn how to fight and survive the 'game'. Richie is actually one of my 'students'. He first died four years ago, but I've known him a couple of years longer than that. Richie's story is his own to tell but basically, at the time we met I knew he was one of us, however, since he hadn't died his first death, he couldn't feel it yet and he didn't know what we are." Duncan paused, remembering. "Richie needed a push in the right direction, so to speak, so I took him in and taught him how to survive. Now, he's like a younger brother and he thinks of me as an older brother as well. Another thing you should know is that once you die your first death, you stay the way you are 'forever', you don't ever look any older than you do now. You'll probably come across immortals who look like a kid, but don't be fooled, that kid could be hundreds or thousands years old." Duncan finished. 

"How is old is the oldest immortal?" Michael asked curiously. 

Duncan paused for a moment before answering. It wasn't his place to tell Michael about Methos, his 5,000 plus year old friend. Methos was a legend, a myth to most, real only to those few he knew and trusted. Duncan was not about to break this trust. 

Although Duncan's pause was slight, Michael, due to his training and intensity, noticed it and filed it away for later, not pressing *for now.* 

"There are some who are a couple thousand years old, but they are few. There are rumors of older ones but nobody really knows how old you are unless you tell them. Most of us don't go around bragging about our age." Duncan continued, purposely stressing 'us' and 'we', making sure that Michael understood that he was a part of it now, that he was one of 'us'. "However, the older you are and the more heads you've taken, the stronger you and your quickening, your presence becomes. You'll be able to feel the difference between a young one and an old one. Sometimes the hunters go for the old ones for their strength *but* sometimes they go for the young ones," Duncan looked pointedly at Michael, "figuring it's an easy kill." 

"The game, the prize you talked about, is it real, I mean is it true?" Michael asked next. 

"We believe it's true, yes. As I said before, most of us are not power hungry. Many of us are content to just live for as long as we can. Why, is that what you want? To hunt for the prize?" Duncan asked disappointedly. 

"No, I'm not power hungry. I was just curious." Michael replied softly and earnestly. 

"Well, what *about* you? What's your story?" Duncan queried, changing the subject to one that he was really curious about. 

Michael inexplicably found himself liking and trusting Duncan enough to open up to him. For a man who hadn't allowed himself to really trust anyone or anything, in a very long time, to say that this feeling of trust was remarkable was an understatement. Nevertheless, he found himself opening up to Duncan. 

"My name is Michael Samuelle, I was born in Marseilles in 1965." Michael began quietly in his softly accented English. "My parents died when I was in my teens. After they died I took care of my much younger sister as there was no one else to raise us. Our parents left enough money to provide what we needed. My life changed when I went to University. I got involved with student activists and I did something that I will regret for the rest of my life." Michael paused, his eyes betraying the painful memories he was recalling. "I helped build a bomb that killed innocent people. The building was supposed to be empty at the time of the explosion, but there were several people inside and they were killed. I was caught and sent to prison." Michael had to stop again for a minute, as his suppressed pain and emotions surfaced again, overwhelming him momentarily. 

"One night I was taken from my cell to a place called Section One." Michael continued, his gray-green eyes staring at nothing, his face back to its usual unreadable mask, his momentary 'weakness' gone. "They made it look like I committed suicide in my cell and I've been dead to the world since." 'Dead inside too,' Michael added silently to himself. 

"Section One trained me to be an anti-terrorist operative." Michael continued in his monotone, showing no emotion, as usual. "We are a clandestine government agency who goes after the criminals that regular law enforcement agencies can't. We don't always play by the rules and we 'get our man' by any means necessary. The work we do is for the greater good and whatever has to be done to achieve our goals is. To paraphrase a friend of mine, 'our ends are just, but our means are ruthless.' I've been in Section One for the last ten years." 

As Michael was talking, Duncan noticed how he kept saying 'we' and 'us' as opposed to 'they' and 'them'. Duncan realized that Michael thought of *himself* as Section One. Michael didn't differentiate the two. It was like they owned him, body and soul. Duncan had heard about Section One and their methods of recruitment and operation. To him, it looked like Michael had been indoctrinated into Section, the perfect operative, more machine than human. No wonder there was so much pain and self-loathing evident in his eyes. To a trained observer like Duncan, it was evident how much surviving almost half his life within and for the Section must have cost him. Believing that whatever you did, no matter how horrific at times, was for the greater good and detaching yourself from your actions was the only way to survive that place. That and the belief that you deserve this fate as your punishment, that dying is too easy for your sins. It was clear that Michael survived the Section by trying, to varying degrees of success, to become dead inside and accept his lot in life as his punishment for past transgressions, otherwise he would've swallowed a bullet and ended his misery a long time ago. Duncan realized that in order for Michael to 'live' again he would have to teach him how to forgive himself for both things he had control over and things he didn't and move on. The past was just that, the past and you couldn't change it, but you had to forgive yourself as well as others, accept it and move on. It seemed to Duncan that Michael was never able to forgive himself and move on, that was probably where most of his pain was coming from. It amazed Duncan how much self-loathing was expressed in Michael's eyes. Michael had to get past it if he had any chance of living because if he felt that he deserved to die, then it was only a matter of time before he did, especially with so many hunters out there today. Duncan had a strong suspicion that if Michael's attitude didn't change and soon, he would probably just let the first immortal he encountered take his head and end his suffering. He was obviously too strong to just do it himself but a beheading by another would suit his purpose. 'I wonder what Michael's whole story is, there's obviously a lot more to it than what Michael was telling,' Duncan thought, 'Maybe Joe could find out, he had a high placed connection in Section One, somebody all the way back from Joe's days in Viet Nam,' if he remembered correctly. 

Out loud, Duncan said, "You keep saying 'we' but, you have to realize that you can't go back there, to them you're dead. You have to sever all the ties to your past and start over. If you were to go back, there would be too many questions that you couldn't answer. The 'real' world isn't ready for us, they wouldn't accept us, I've seen it first hand. If they found out about us, they would treat us much like the so-called witches that were hunted in the old days." Duncan finished, remembering Horton and his renegade watchers, who eventually did more than observe, they started beheading all the immortals they encountered, believing them *all* to be evil. "They would hunt us down until we were all dead." 

"I have to go back." 

"Why?" Duncan asked, starting to get exasperated. 

"I just have to. They'll find me eventually anyway, they'll know I survived the explosion and they won't stop looking for me. They have their ways. Escape is not an option." Michael replied, resigned to going back, even though the opportunity of freedom being presented to him was strongly appealing. 

"If they do find you, then what?" Duncan questioned. "How are you going to explain that you're alive. And if you manage to convince them that nothing's 'wrong', what will happen the next time you get injured? You'll heal almost instantly, you won't have any scars, even your old ones have disappeared already. You'll always be in perfect health and you'll never look any older, how will you explain that?" 

"I don't know, I'll think of something later. But I have to go back for.." Michael paused, he was about to say 'for her, for Nikita' but stopped himself. 

"For who? Nikita?" Duncan guessed. 

"How do you know about her?" Michael's head snapped up, suspicion clearly showing in his suddenly green eyes. 

"You called out her name before you 'died'." 

"She's my...partner, she won't...survive Section by herself. I have to go back to...protect her." 

"Look," Duncan replied. "I sympathize with your situation, but it's a really bad idea to go back, especially now. How will you explain your 'miraculous' reappearance and your perfect health? You're not in the least bit injured and even if you tried to injure yourself on purpose, you would just heal in a matter of minutes. They'd end up using you as a guinea pig, to see what makes you tick." 

"Then I'll wait a few days. I'll tell them I got out but was too injured to make my way back right away," Michael said stubbornly. 

"To completely recover from those injuries you'd need a couple of *months*, at least." Duncan paused. "Did anyone see you get hurt?" 

"Yes, Nikita...and Birkoff, I'm sure they think I'm dead, otherwise they'd be looking for me." 

"Well, if there were witnesses, you can't show up without any injuries. Why don't you lay low for a couple of months, train to fight with a sword, then when enough time has elapsed and you've completed your training, if you still want to go back, well then, I guess I won't be able to stop you." Duncan said, hoping to buy him some time to convince Michael of the foolishness of his desire to try to go back to his old life. 

"Fine, I guess I could learn what I need to survive as an immortal in the meantime. I might as well do something anyway." 

"That's not the right attitude." Duncan replied, somewhat angrily. "You know, another thing to think about if you want to go back to that life is, what you're going to do if you cross paths with another immortal while on a mission. You won't always be able to avoid a confrontation. How are you going to explain sword fighting and the release of a quickening to your bosses?" 

"The release?" Michael asked. 

"The quickening release is the end result of a duel between immortals. When you take another immortal's head, you take their quickening. Their strength, power, etc. and that of those who's heads *they've* taken will be 'transferred' to you..." 

"Transferred? How?" Michael asked, curiosity piqued. 

"Think of it as being the center, the rod, of a lightening storm. That's about as close a description as there is. The longevity of the 'storm' depends on the age and the strength of the immortal who's head you take. The older and/or stronger the immortal you behead, the longer and more intense the quickening." 

"I can't just walk away from my past. I can't..." Michael didn't want to stay, he didn't want to abandon Nikita, he knew she wouldn't survive Section for very long without his protection. He couldn't just walk away to a new life and leave her behind. He couldn't do it to her. 

"Listen, you can't do anything about it right now, you can't go back yet anyway." Duncan interrupted. "So learn how to survive in the immortal world, then, when the time is right you can decide what to do." 

Seeing that he had no choice, Michael agreed to train with Duncan, for now. He figured that Nikita would spend a few weeks in MedLab recovering from the injuries she sustained anyway. He just hoped that she would stay out of trouble after that until he came back. 

******** 

**TWO AND A HALF MONTHS LATER (OR ONE WEEK AGO):**

Training had been going well, surprisingly well, Duncan thought as he watched Michael finish cooling down after his workout in the dojo. He was surprised and grudgingly admiring of Michael's progress. He was a quick study and in the short time he had been training him, Michael had learned just about everything Duncan had to teach him. Even Joe, Duncan's part-time watcher, full-time friend, was amazed at Michael's progress. Richie wasn't surprised anymore because it only took Michael three weeks to surpass his skill level. Whatever else they had done to him, Section One at least trained him well in all aspects of combat. 

During the past two and a half months Michael had opened up to Duncan. He told him more about his pre-Section past, how he got caught up in the mess that brought him into Section in the first place. Michael then went on to tell him about the hell that was Section One. He told him about his wife Simone, her supposed death four years ago and her real death two years ago. Michael also told him all about Nikita and why he had to go back, for her sake. Duncan understood that Michael was in love with Nikita even though Michael was still to scared to admit it to himself. Duncan realized that as much as he didn't want Michael to go back to his old life, he knew he wouldn't stop him, he would do the same in Michael's place. 

Michael felt Duncan watching him. He knew it was time to go, his training was over, he had learned as much from Duncan as he was going to. Enough time had passed anyway, and he was ready to go back to Section. He already had his cover story. He would tell Operations that he had been too severely injured to go back right way. He wouldn't endanger Duncan by telling Operations about him. He would just say that he made it out of the warehouse on his own and found a place to recuperate, his head injury temporarily delaying him. He'd already confirmed the necessary documentation for his cover story. Michael knew there would be dozens of questions, from both Operations and Madeline. But he was prepared to answer them satisfactorily because he knew present his life and more importantly, Nikita's life depended on his answers. 

******** 

"Congratulations," Duncan said as Michael came out of the shower, dressed and ready to leave. "I have to say I'm very impressed with your skills. I'm actually hoping that I never have to face you because *I'm* not even sure that I'd win." Duncan finished, only half-jokingly. 

"Thanks for the compliment, Mac." Michael smiled while adjusting the sword Duncan had given him as a 'graduation' present in his jacket's lining. 

It didn't escape either man's attention that Michael had smiled and lived more in the past couple of months than he had in the last fifteen years. Both men also realized that Michael's training was finished. Duncan had no more to teach him and it was time for Michael to go out on his own. Duncan wasn't too worried about it, he knew Michael had the skills to live a long immortal life. The only thing that worried him at all was Michael going back to Section One. Duncan wasn't entirely convinced that Michael would pass their 'inspection' but he wasn't about to stop him. Michael had to make his own mistakes. Besides, Duncan was going to ask Joe to ask his Section One friend keep him posted on Michael's progress for the time being. He only hoped that Michael wouldn't stay there too long, for the longer he stayed the greater the chance that he would be found out. 

"If you change your mind and need help getting out, just contact me here at the dojo," 

"Thank you for the offer," Michael responded softly, "But I don't think so, not for a while anyway. They won't notice that anything is different, not until they realize I'm not aging. But that shouldn't happen for a few more years. In the meantime, I always had a strong tolerance for pain and an aversion to MedLab, so there won't be any suspicions in that area. As long as they buy my story about my disappearance, everything should be fine." 

"Goodbye, Michael. Keep your head up." Duncan said, hoping to see Michael again in the future. 

"Thanks, Mac. You too." Michael replied as he walked out of the dojo for the last time, a fully trained and very skilled immortal. 

******** 

**YESTERDAY:**

"I found her," Birkoff shouted excitedly from Systems. He was glad that Michael was back. He still wasn't sure how he escaped the collapse, even Walter wasn't privy to that information and Birkoff certainly wasn't about to ask Operations or Madeline. Truthfully he didn't care. The important thing was that Michael was back and if anyone could get Nikita out of Red Cell's headquarters, he could. Birkoff just hoped that Nikita was still alive. 

Unbeknownst to Birkoff, Michael, coming to stand right behind Birkoff, was thinking along the same lines. He was worried that he came back too late to save Nikita. As Birkoff typed furiously away Michael thought back to the previous day and his re-entry into Section One. Looking back it had been too easy, his story too easily bought. As his 'interrogation' by Madeline and Operations himself came to a close and Michael found out that he was in the clear, he immediately asked about Nikita. It was then that he knew why Operations had been so easy on him. Ops figured that with Nikita captured, probably dead, unreachable at the very least, Michael would go back to the way he was before, the way Operations wanted him. Michael knew what Operations wanted. He knew that the mission he 'died' on had been a set-up to cancel Nikita but he had no intention of letting Operations know that. Michael also had no intention of losing Nikita, he would find her and get her out, regardless of what Operations wanted. Michael figured Operations let him go on this rescue mission because he thought Nikita was probably already dead. Michael knew Nikita was alive, he would have felt it if she were dead. He always had a connection to her, he couldn't explain it himself but it was there. Nikita was alive, he was sure of it and he was right. What Michael was wrong about was Operations' motives. 

******** 

Looking down from his office, Operations watched as Michael and Birkoff finalized the mission profile. He thought he had lost Michael three months ago, he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Operations finally realized, hopefully not too late, that Madeline was right, Michael needed Nikita, she wasn't just his weakness, she was also his strength. He mentally kicked himself for not realizing it earlier, after her 'capture' and subsequent 'rescue' from Freedom League last year. 

After they thought Michael was dead, Operations finally realized how much Michael had meant to him. He knew that he would never be able to see his son Stephen again, so subconsciously he started thinking of Michael as his surrogate son. It took Madeline's subtle prodding for him to admit to himself his fondness for Michael both professionally and personally. 

When Michael returned yesterday, Operations was skeptical, even more so than Madeline. Two things changed his mind, the first being that if Michael had truly been planning an escape he surely would've taken Nikita with him. And second, more importantly, Operations had his own strong suspicions about Michael. When he and Madeline reviewed the tapes, it was obvious nobody could survive that explosion and subsequent collapse. Michael's comm and vid unit went down after the explosion. But even though they couldn't see or hear anything, Birkoff and Nikita's reports when they came back as well as Housekeeping's confirmation of the devastation were enough to make them believe that Michael was really dead. Michael always had an unusually high tolerance for pain and injury but that blast and the following collapse would have killed anyone, even Michael. Michael's story *was* flimsy but when Madeline wanted to dig deeper, Operations stopped her. He was suspicious alright, but not of the same thing that Madeline was. 

Operations strongly suspected that Michael was an immortal. Oh, yes, he knew all about immortals. He was still waiting for his old Viet Nam buddy, Joe Dawson to call him to double check his suspicions, even though at this point it was just a formality. Operations checked out Michael's jackets and coats while the younger man was occupied elsewhere and found the telltale sword 'hiding' spot in the lining. Being one of the head watchers, Joe would be able to confirm for him if Michael was an immortal, not that he had really had any doubts, who else other than an immortal would need to carry a sword? Strange that his past was catching up to him. 

Operations glanced at his wrist, remembering the long removed watcher tatoo he used to sport. He and Joe started out as watchers together, observing immortals and keeping a journal on them. They were to observe only and never to interfere. Perhaps that was what made Operations leave the watchers, the fact that he couldn't 'interfere'. It started bothering him that he couldn't help the 'good' ones, couldn't stop the 'evil' ones. He was only now becoming aware that his time as a watcher affected him more than he realized. Only being able to observe, watching good people die and not being allowed to stop it, helped steel him for his role in Section One, sacrificing for the greater good. Maybe he'd been too harsh in the past, maybe a little compassion wouldn't hurt. After all, Joe who'd always been the steadfast watcher, never straying from his duties, never 'interfering' was now good friends with the immortal he was supposed to be watching. If Joe could admit that he was wrong, sometimes a little interference was warranted, then maybe Operations could admit his mistakes too. 

All Operations knew for sure at this point was that he hoped that Michael was right, that Nikita was alive and that he'd be able to get her out. Michael had had more than his share of tragedy in his life, a lot of it directly due to Section (and more importantly to Operations, by Ops himself), he deserved at least this much. Not that he thought for a minute that Michael would believe that he was sorry for what he'd done, it was enough for *Operations* to know that he was. If Nikita survived he would let them have their relationship. 'Madeline would be surprised,' he thought with a tight smile, but whether she approved or not his decision was made. 

The knock on the door shook Operations out of his revere, ACome in." 

Michael came in, dressed in his customary black field gear, obviously not wanting to waste any time, ready to go as soon as he got the go ahead. "The mission profile is ready." 

"I know. I just read it. You really think it's a good idea to go in alone?" 

"Yes." Michael replied without any hesitation. "It's the only way. The perimeter is too well guarded for a full assault, but I can slip in alone. Walter's new explosives will cover our retreat." 

"Fine. How soon can you leave?" Operations did not miss 'our' retreat. He only hoped that Michael's optimism of finding Nikita alive would be founded. He knew Michael was barely containing his urgency to go and he wasn't going to hold him back any longer. 

"I'm ready now." 

"Good. Go." Operations watched as Michael practically ran out, very unlike his usual calm, deliberate manner. 

******** 

**PRESENT:**

"I see Michael left several hours ago." Madeline stated, coming into Operations 'perch'. 

"Yes, he should be on site by now." 

"Do you really think it was wise to send him in alone and dark?" Madeline inquired. "I would have thought at least a comm unit or tracker to maintain contact." 

"I trust Michael's tactical." Operations replied assertively. "Besides, what you're really worried about is his return." 

"I'll admit that I still have some questions regarding Michael's 'miraculous escape' and subsequent return." 

"It's no longer your concern, I've verified his story myself. Michael's loyalty is not in question." 

"Are you certain?" Madeline inquired suspiciously. 

"Yes, Madeline, I'm certain. Forget it, *we* have no problem with Michael." 'At least not one that I'm going to tell you about,' thought Operations. 

"Very well, I trust in your judgement. Please contact me as soon as they're out, I'll be in my office." Madeline replied and left. 

When Madeline left, Operations breathed a sigh of a relief. He hoped that Madeline would drop the matter. He couldn't allow her to dig any deeper and uncover the truth he had already learned from Joe Dawson. 'I guess I'll just have to keep her busy for a while, until she's convinced of Michael's continuing loyalty.'Operations turned back to his phone willing it to ring with the news that both Michael and Nikita were safe and on their way back to Section One. 

******** 

"Nikita?" 

'Great, now I'm hearing things,' Nikita thought as she peered around the dark room. 'I could swear I just heard Michael, again, like so many times these last few months.' All of a sudden the door burst open and in jumped Michael, looking unbelievably alive and fit. Nikita just lay there staring, she couldn't bring herself to believe that what she was seeing was real. Either he was a ghost or she must be hallucinating. 

"Michael?!?" 

"Yes, Nikita, it's me. I'm really here." 

"No! This has to be another trick, I saw you die!" 

"You know it's me," Michael replied as he came closer. 

"How do I know it's really you?" Nikita asked, clearly confused. 

Instead of replying, Michael unstrapped Nikita's restraints, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her deeply, months of longing showing in his suddenly passionate green eyes. 

"Michael! Oh my god, it *is* you!!!" Nikita breathed after Michael finally broke the kiss. "But how?" 

"Later, Nikita. I promise I'll explain later. We have to get out now. Can you walk?" Michael asked worriedly. 

"Yes, I think so." 

"Here," Michael handed a semi-automatic to Nikita. "Our egress isn't cleared yet." 

"When is it ever?" Nikita smiled. As ridiculous as it sounded, Nikita was too happy to see Michael alive to worry too much about their escape route or anything else for that matter. She knew that as long as Michael was with her, everything would be fine. Nikita also realized that ultimately, if she was patient, Michael would tell her his story. 

Side by side they ran out of the compound just before it exploded, shooting when necessary, Michael shielding Nikita's body with his own, just like old times. 

******** 

"We're out and on our way back. Closure achieved, send housekeeping. We'll be there in half an hour, have medical on standby for Nikita." Michael's voice came in loud and clear through the phone. 

"Is she..." 

"Nikita will be fine, her injuries are not life threatening." Michael replied. 

"Fine. Debrief in my office immediately upon return." 

"Understood." 

Operations sighed with relief, his best cold op, his eventual successor and surrogate son was on his way back. The fact that Nikita was alive actually gladdened him. He was finally able to accept that Michael was better with her than without her. Now he just had to convince Madeline to leave them be and keep her too pre-occupied to worry about Michael's three month absence.


End file.
